


Coyotes

by Zoodan21



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Late night talks, M/M, Mentioned Archie Andrews, Post Chapter 10: The Lost Weekend, two sad boys relating to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoodan21/pseuds/Zoodan21
Summary: Maybe it was supposed to be beautiful, serene, a slow motion shot in a movie where comradery and understanding got created in a moment of open honesty fueled by the desperate feeling of wanting to be known.After his birthday party Jughead runs into Joaquin.
Relationships: Joaquin DeSantos & Jughead Jones, Joaquin DeSantos/Kevin Keller
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Coyotes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [qanterqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qanterqueen/gifts).



> listen, i love Joaquin so much, so so much. he deserved so much better than he got

The first time it happens, it’s barely a thing. It’s half of an encounter, not sought out or decided by either of them. It could be fate, a moment of serendipity in which the universe put them next to each other and they were supposed to realize that despite everything they weren’t so different after all. Maybe it was supposed to be beautiful, serene, a slow motion shot in a movie where comradery and understanding got created in a moment of open honesty fueled by the desperate feeling of wanting to be  _ known. _

That isn’t what happens. 

I

It’s sometime after his birthday party, when all of the guests had left already and it’s only him, Archie and Veronica sitting in the living room, looking at the decorations thrown around the room. It’s littered with red solo cups, and while yes they are a classic, they also look trashy thrown around on the floor, the leftovers of a teen party gone south. 

Both Archie and Veronica are on the sofa laying on opposite sides, both with their heads hanging and eyes unfocused. Veronica has a blanket covering her shoulders and a glass of water in her hand, gripped tightly despite the fact that she looks about five minutes away from falling asleep. He doesn’t know when she had time to grab it. Was it before his dad had forced everyone to leave, or in the middle of the chaos created by teens pouring out of the house? 

In contrast, Arche’s more spread out, almost falling off the couch with his head propped up against the armrest in such a way that might give him a sore neck in the morning if he stays there much longer. He looks tired, but not in the  _ I’m slowly working my way towards a hangover _ \- tired, more in the  _ I feel this in my bones-  _ tired, and every once in a while his eyes flicker over, filled with emotions and concern and all those other things that are just a bit too honest. 

He wants to feel bad for them, he really does. But it’s hard, so hard to look at them and not blame them. He’d told them that he didn’t want a birthday party, made it so painfully clear that it wasn't a good idea and yet here they are. He knows that Arche blames himself for this mess, that Betty is probably up in her room right now going over everything that happened and trying to figure out at what point exactly it went bad, so she can avoid it next time. Jokes on her, that point was passed long before he met them. 

If the circumstances had been different maybe he would have been able to muster up the energy and look Archie in the eye and tell him that it was all fine, that it didn’t really matter. He’d tell them that he understands why they decided to do it despite his wishes, that it was the thought that matters in the end. Right now though, he doesn’t have the energy to do anything but sit on the floor, legs spread out in front of him and head lowered. 

It’s a defeated and miserable pose, just like the whole night. To his left there’s a beer bottle, open and half empty. Instead of meeting Archie’s eyes he focuses on the bubbles behind the green glass as they make their way up to the surface, and it’s familiar, it’s a sight he’s looked at a hundred times to avoid the reality of what’s going on in the room around him. He’s spent hours watching small bubbles float to the top and taper off more and more until there are none left, he could carbonate how long a bottle has been opened just from that tell. It’s such a sad talent to have, or maybe more of a survival instinct.

None of the others would ever understand why, sitting in the living room of Fred Andrews’ house, their only worry the thought of Fred coming home early the next day before they managed to clean away the mess. 

The room is suffocating and for a moment, he just wants to scream at them, demand to know what the hell they were thinking, and the anger he feels swells in his chest. He clenches his hands, forms them into fists and he knows that it wouldn’t take much for him to cause a scene, if he grabbed the bottle and threw it into the ground, if he kicked a chair over and punched the wall until his knuckles started to bleed. Of course, he doesn’t do that, because he’s got years and years of training to hold in his anger. 

There’s an angry bush on his cheek, and his neck feels warm with the frustration to keep it all in, and he can feel Archie’s eyes on him again. For once, he doesn’t want the attention, doesn’t want Archie’s concern, no matter how genuine it is. But in this room, there is no way for him to escape it. 

He needs to get out, and he stands up, ignoring how his vision swims with black spots and tries to make his way out the room as quickly as possible. Behind him, Archie is calling out his name but he doesn’t answer back, if he opens his mouth now nothing will stop him from pouring the ugly parts of his heart out then and there in the hallway, and that can’t happen. He can’t be stuck inside any longer, in this perfect house in the quiet little suburbia with it’s two story houses and green lawns that doesn’t belong in his world. 

Outside the air is fresh and ice cold raindrops hits his face, and for the first time since his dad stopped by he can breathe.

Walking down the steps he looks around the street. The lights reflect on the wet asphalt and cars covered in rain, and in most of the houses the lights are off. Betty’s room is illuminated, a faint golden light that looks warm and inviting and for a moment he thinks about going to her. But she lives here, and just like Archie and Veronica, she wouldn’t understand. And… and he doesn’t want her to see him like this, angry and ready to throw punches if he’s pushed just a bit further, so he walks away. 

He wanders the empty streets aimlessly- just breathing and focusing on anything that isn’t the party earlier, until he ends up by the outskirts of the river, stopping by the dead end of the road right where the trees and moss covered ground begins. 

If the sun had been out he would have been able to see the tracks of burnt rubber, and the different nuances of green just beyond him, but the sky is dark gray and the ground just the same, and he passed the last street light a while back. 

Now it’s only him and the stillness of nature and a sleeping town. 

Most people would probably avoid walking in dark areas around the forest at night, and he should probably do the same, but it’s peaceful where he is, no loud music, or teens laughing, or the sound of his dad or Betty’s explanation of why she thought it would be a good idea to host a birthday party against his explicit wishes. It’s just him, and the sound of rain hitting the leves. 

There’s a railing at the end of the road to stop people from driving down into the river, and he sits down on it, feeling the cold seep through his old jeans, and it’s grounding in a way that nothing had been since he moved in with the Andrews. 

He used to love sitting out in the rain, listening to it hit the roofs of the trailers around him and watching the way the light from the small windows shone through the heavy downpour. It was easier to stay out in the rain than be trapped inside with his dad and a fridge filled with cheap beer, and he’d go inside when the rain had stopped and his clothes felt heavy and slick against his body. 

But now it seems those times are past, and he’s left with the realization that they would never come back. The worst part is that he’s not sure if he wants them to come back, because then at least he knew the status quo, and it was familiar. Things aren’t that simple anymore, and he’s so tired of having to pretend that he’s just living a normal life, like waking up on Archie’s floor and going down for breakfast without having to worry that the fridge is empty is the norm. 

Standing there, staring at the town in front of him, he’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t recognize the sound of someone walking through the woods until they’re almost upon him. He turns around, squinting into the darkness, trying to see who it might be, and feeling a chill run up his spine. Walking around Riverdale at night isn’t as safe as it used to be, and he’s suddenly  _ very aware  _ that the spot where they found Jason’s body isn’t too far away. 

Patting down the pockets of his jacket and jeans, he also realizes that he’d left Archie’s house without anything that could even remotely resemble a weapon, not even his keys. All he’s got is a bunch of old candy wrappers and a few coins, and he doesn’t think that whoever’s out walking at this hour is interested in either thing. 

Just when he is about to start walking away, the person emerges from between the trees, dressed in black.

For a moment, the two of them stare at each other, and he squints again, trying to make out whoever it can be when the other person speaks up.

“Jughead Jones?” 

He recognizes the voice, from time spent at Southside High and evenings at The Twilight Drive-In, surrounded by Serpents. 

“Joaquin, right?” He asks, and Joaquin takes a step closer, hands burrowed deep in the leather jacket he’s wearing, shoulders raised, and there’s a scowl on his face. It’s not who he expects to be out in the woods late at night lurking around, but then again- he doesn’t actually know Joaquin, he only knows that he’s part of the Serpents, and that he hangs around Kevin sometimes. 

He can see Joaquin nod in the darkness, the side of his face barely illuminated from the streetlights so far away. ”What are you doing here? Don’t you have a birthday party going on?”

Jughead suddenly remembers that Joaquin had been at the party, keeping near the walls or by Kevin’s side, shoulders relaxed but eyes shifting all over the people moving around Archie’s house. But he doesn’t know when Joaquin left, if it was after or before his dad had ordered everyone to leave. For a brief moment he wonders how Joaquin sees his dad, if he’s just as much of a drunk asshole towards the Serpent's that follow him or if he treats them differently- values them more. Not that he’ll ever ask, it feels strangely like revealing a weakness just thinking about it. 

“It got cancelled. Didn’t feel like sticking around for much longer.” He answers.

Joaquin nods again, and takes his hands out of his pockets, rubs them together before blowing hot air from his mouth on them. There isn’t enough light for Jughead to see what he’s wearing under the leather jacket, and he can honestly say he could care less about what Joaquin wears, but he suspects it's just a t-shirt. 

The night is cold, the chill from the passing rain hanging in the air, and Jughead counts himself lucky for always putting on so many layers, a habit that has saved him from walking the quiet streets of Riverdale freezing down to his bones on multiple occasions. 

“Yeah I heard, kinda a shit move on your dad’s part.” He pauses, and adds “No offence of course.”

“Nah it uh, I mean the party wasn’t that great anyways. It wasn’t my idea of a good time.” It had been an awful idea and he’d had even worse of a time, but even saying the half-truth felt like a relief. None of his friends had listened to him when he’d tried to explain why he wouldn’t like to have a party, and no matter how many times he’d repeated it they didn’t seem to understand or care. Joaquin might not care either but at least he wouldn’t argue against it.

“Mhm, can’t say I liked it that much either. All those fucking rich kids and they can’t even bring good beer to a party.”

“What are you doing out here? It’s kinda far away from the south side.” He asks, changing the subject. 

Joaquin shrugs, looking away and towards the town. “I’m staying at Kevin’s right now. Decided to take a walk before I went back there.”

“Oh?” Jughead raises an eyebrow. 

The frown on Joaquin’s face returns. “You’re not the only person who can stay at his boyfriend’s house Jones. Don’t think you’re special for having migrated to the north side.”

“I’m not dating Archie!” He protests, glaring at Joaquin who simply shrugs at him. 

“You sleep on the floor in his room and he spent like half of the party just like, staring at you. Kinda seemed like you were dating, but hey what do I know? I try to not get too wrapped up in northsiders business.” 

“Yet you’re dating someone from the north side. Seems kinda hypocritical.”

“I guess you gotta make exceptions for some people huh.” The sour look on his face melts away, and Joaquin looks towards the city where Jughead assumes Kevin lives. 

It’s strange to see Joaquin look almost  _ fond _ . Jughead doesn’t care that much about others relationships, he’s had more important things to focus on in life than drama, but he can’t say that he wasn’t shocked when he found out who Kevin was dating. Their relationship was Riverdale’s own Romeo and Juliette, and Jughead thought they’d crash and burn as quickly as it started, but looking at Joaquin now it seemed like he was wrong. It makes him oddly happy. “Well, that still doesn’t explain why you’re out here in the middle of the night? Won’t Kevin miss you?” 

Joaquin shakes his head. “Nah, he knows I need to get away sometimes. I mean, he doesn’t understand  _ why _ , but he trusts me to not walk straight into a fight.” He seems to consider his statement for a moment, before adding, “Or at least, that if I get into a fight I’ll come back to his house.” 

“You do know his dad is the sheriff right? I don’t think he’d approve of you sneaking out in the middle of the night for some Serpent business.”

“It’s not gang related, I do have a life outside of them.” 

“Yet you’re out here walking in the woods near a murded scene, wearing their leather jacket.” 

“Fuck off Jones, it’s the best jacket I got. Besides, the woods are quiet. The south side is always filled with noise, so I used to go on walks in the forest on that side of town. Guess I never let go of the habit.” He laughs, once, but to Jughead it sounds more like a sigh. 

“Yeah I get that. When I first moved in with Archie the first night I was just awake, and there was just  _ quiet _ , even with the window open. It’s unnerving.” 

“Right. The first night I spent with Kevin and his dad was home, we slept with the door open and I had to go up in the middle of the night to close it, and I didn’t even know how to explain it. ‘Hey it’s cool that you’re comfortable in your home but I literally cannot handle sleeping with an open door because what if someone comes inside without me noticing’? It’s some fucking paranoia.”

“Oh the first week whenever his dad came back from work I’d just stay in his room. I’ve known Fred for forever but sitting at the dinner table with him was awkward to say the least. My dad wasn’t the most family oriented man.” Jughead pauses. “He was more the passing out on the sofa drunk type of man.” 

There’s understanding in Joaquin’s eyes, and he gives a sympathetic grimace. “Yeah I was in a group home before now, it’s a fucking awful place. But I’m used to sharing a room with five other guys, not being three people in one house. I keep all my stuff in a bag just so I can keep track of it.” 

“I do that too!” It’s like a weight falls off his shoulders and he smiles at Joaquin, crooked and raw. The relief of knowing that he’s not the only one who just doesn’t fall into step with the north side and their unwritten rules and customs is immense. Like a dam bursting. “Archie cleared out a space for me in his closet but I mostly just hang my jacket there so I don’t feel guilty for not using it.” 

“I got a drawer in Kevin’s room with my bag in it, I used to keep it under the bed but.” Joaquin shrugs. “I appreciate the fact that he just accepts it, he doesn’t push for an answer… It’s  _ nice _ .” 

“Makes it seem more permanent than it feels?” He asks. 

“I fucking guess. Maybe that’s it. Honestly I spend most of the time trying to keep up with Kevin’s life.” Joaquin sounds frustrated. “There’s so many small things I take for granted and then I find out that no, normal kids don’t fucking react to doors slamming.” 

“I know, everything is just different here. Archie’s dad doesn’t even drink anything stronger than beer and am I just expected to go up to him and explain that I’m shocked any time I open the freezer and it’s full of food and not vodka? And even if I explain it, he just doesn’t  _ understand _ . It sucks.” It’s like he opens his mouth and everything he kept behind lock and key bursts forward- eagerly to be heard by someone who gets it. 

  
  


“Yeah! Yeah that’s exactly it. And I don’t- it sounds real shitty to say it but I don’t know how to even say it to Kevin, he gets all concerned and ugh. I mean it’s nice, but in the long run?” Joaquin shakes his head, hair falling loose from where it was tucked behind his ears. 

“You don’t think it’s going to last?”

Joaquin exhales, and he looks tired all of a sudden, as he rubs a hand over his forehead. “I wish, but like, I’m fucking stuck in biker gang for the rest of my life and he’s gonna go places y’know? He’s got plans for the future and it’s nice that he’ll include me in them, but let’s be real.” 

Jughead waits for him to continue, but Joaquin is clenching his jaw and staring off into the distance, blinking rapidly. 

And he gets it. He understands so much what Joaquin is describing because isn’t that exactly how it is between him and Archie? Or him and Betty? Where they’re going places after high school, they have the  _ opportunity  _ to make something out of themselves in a way that he just doesn’t. Even if Archie talks a big game about them going to New York and making it as a writer and an artist, it feels like it’s not for him. That wherever he goes in life people will just look at him and recognize that he’s trailer trash, that he’s not as good as Archie. Sometimes it’s enough to be close to Archie, just to have some of that endless sunshine from his smile shine upon Jughead and make him a better person, worthy of the future he’s describing. 

But then it all comes crashing down, every time Archie says or does something that he just assumes is normal and probably is, but it’s not the reality that Jughead lives in. And it’s so nice of the Andrews to let him stay with them, but it just makes the divide between them even more apparent. 

At the same time though, he’s seen how Kevin looks at Joaquin. The utter adoration on his face, the sort that says ‘I’d do anything for you’. It wasn’t fair, Joaquin should be able to see and accept the love that was so freely given to him, and not worry that it would some day end. He sits by Veronica and Kevin every break, he knows how much thought Kevin puts into every date, how he wants everything to be perfect for Joaquin because according to Kevin, it’s what he deserves. Maybe they weren’t Riverdale’s Romeo and Juliette, but rather their version of Better Angel, destined to have a happy ending rather than the expected tragedy. 

He got no idea how to explain that to Joaquin. 

Instead he lets the silence stretch on, staring off to the town just beyond the street light. 

“My birthday party really was awful, wasn’t it?” He says instead, and pretends not to notice how Joaquin’s shoulders unfurls at the change of subject. 

“The worst party I’ve ever been to Jones.” Joaquin replies. 

II

A while later they part ways. 

They don’t say goodbye to each other, and leave the same way they arrived. It feels easier to walk through the streets now, his heart a little lighter.

He goes back to the Andrew's house, where Veronica has fallen asleep on the couch and the living room is free from decorations and discarded cups. He sneaks in, and turns off the light in the hallway and slowly makes his way up the stairs to Archie’s room.

On the bed, Archie is asleep, sprawled all over the bed, still dressed in the clothes he wore during the evening. He’s prepared a glass of water on the nightstand for the morning, he got a package of aspirin there as well, and it makes him smile fondly. 

His smile freezes on his face when he sees a little box on the mattress on the floor. It’s not wrapped, it just got his name written on top of it in sharpie. Slowly, he sits down on the mattress, just staring at the little gift. His birthday is over by now, and it feels like he can let go of the day, and all the memories and expectations that came with it. He knows the box is a birthday gift, knows it was intended for him to get earlier, but it’s easier to grab it now, to carefully open it.

Inside is a key. A house key. 

He knows where it leads, knows that Archie got one that looks exactly the same. 

The deep sleep breathing is still coming from the bed, and he grabs the key and places it in his hand, curling his fist around it so hard that it  _ hurts _ . But it hurts because it feels more permanent, feels more real. 

Quietly, he slips out of his jacket and hangs it in the closet, and after some consideration, he hangs his clothes in beside the jacket as well.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you like it <3


End file.
